


from the ground up

by glowinghorizons



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Tattoos, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-05 07:28:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6695419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/glowinghorizons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"As soon as it starts, it stops again. The line is still there, the dark color sticking out in stark contrast with her pale skin, and she knows what this means. Her heart pounds because she’s heard of this, heard of people who feel a pain on their body and then see a mark, a tattoo where his or her soulmate have one just like it."</p>
<p>OR: </p>
<p>Clarke doesn’t want, or need a soulmate, so whoever is making her fail her biology final is going to have hell to pay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	from the ground up

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this prompt: Soulmate!AU where a tattoo isn’t set from the moment you’re born, but whatever tattoos your soulmate gets, you get too. It’s all cool because you kind of like the designs, except you also feel the pain of getting a tattoo and that sucks because you’re kind of in the middle of an exam right now and it’s getting harder to concentrate on your work.
> 
> **A/N:** _Katy has been asking me to write a soulmate!AU forever and I’ve always found them kind of daunting, but you do this kind of thing for your best friend, right? I used Bob’s IRL tattoo for reference because it’s easier._
> 
> _Disclaimer: I don’t own_ The 100 _, the characters or the NYPD. The only thing I know about the NYPD is what I learn from Donnie Wahlberg on_ Blue Bloods _. Title and lyrics used throughout are from “From The Ground Up” by Dan + Shay._

Clarke’s tattoo starts to show on a rainy Friday morning while she’s taking a shower, trying to mentally prepare herself for her biology exam. She put off taking biology until the last possible semester, and now this is the only thing standing in the way of her starting her residency. 

She’s shaving her legs when she feels it - a pinprick sensation on the inside of her right wrist. She plays soccer, so she’s used to the weird aches and pains she gets every now and then, but this feels different. It goes away, so she shakes her head and finishes what she’s doing, only getting distracted _totally_ when she’s shampooing her hair and feels a needle. 

“ _Ow--_ ” she hisses, and then freezes when she looks at her wrist and sees a small line appearing on her skin in dark black ink. “No, no, _no_ \--”

And then as soon as it starts, it stops again. The line is still there, the dark color sticking out in stark contrast with her pale skin, and she knows what this means. Her heart pounds because she’s heard of this, heard of people who feel a pain on their body and then see a mark, a tattoo where his or her soulmate have one just like it. 

“I don’t have time for this,” she tells herself primly, trying to ignore the way her voice shakes. Ignoring the pain she still feels on her wrist, she towels off and gets dressed, only wincing every few minutes as she feels the unmistakable pinch of the tattoo completing itself on her wrist.

.

.

When she gets to class, the pain is not unbearable, but more noticeable than it was earlier. Despite her better judgement, she lifts her sleeve and glances at her wrist, noticing that the lines are thicker and look to be an outline. She glares at her wrist, almost willing the person to wait and get their damn tattoo filled in on a day when she doesn’t have an important exam.

“Miss Griffin, you have 30 minutes to finish up,” her professor reminds her gently, and Clarke looks up with a fake smile plastered on her face. 

She’s so distracted and she doesn’t know how she’s going to finish in time. The pain keeps up in her wrist, and of _course_ it’s the wrist on her dominant hand, because why wouldn’t it be? Scowling, Clarke finishes up her exam the best she can despite the weird sensations she’s feeling and hands it in, suddenly feeling a sense of relief wash over her.

She’s got the feeling that this emotion she’s feeling isn’t entirely her own, and when she glances at her wrist, it looks like the entire design is complete. “I’m feeling what you feel,” she says quietly to herself. “This is going to be interesting.”

When she gets back to her apartment, she goes online and looks up everything about soulmates that she can. She learned about them in school, but not the technical aspects. She doesn’t know how the sharing of emotions and feelings works, and is disconcerted when nearly everything she reads points to a true, deep connection between her and whoever her soulmate is.

Frowning, she thinks about her parents, and how badly they turned out despite their matching soul marks. Bitterly, she shuts her laptop, vowing to herself that she won’t go looking for her soulmate. If it’s meant to be, then they’ll meet. She isn’t going to push it.

.

.

“It looks good, O.” Bellamy says, admiring the black ink on his wrist. He’s relieved that the process is finally over. Getting a tattoo when you’re afraid of needles is nothing to laugh at. He’s surprised he didn’t pass out.

“I know it does,” she says, tilting her head to the side as she puts a little more ink on, and wipes some away with her thumb. 

“Someone somewhere could be seeing the exact same tattoo on their wrist right now,” Harper, one of the other tattoo artists who was training under Octavia says, her face lighting up. 

Bellamy’s eyes snap up towards her, and Octavia groans. “Harper, what did I tell you about bringing that stuff up in here?”

The younger girl frowns, “What? I know what you said, but--”

“But nothing! People don’t want to hear about that all the time. Sometimes they just want to get a tattoo, okay? It’s not about soulmarks all the time.”

“Lay off, O.” Bellamy says, but he’s frowning. He honestly never even thought about a potential soulmate when he decided to finally get the tattoo his sister has been begging him to get since she was old enough to get her own.

Their tattoos are similar, but with small differences. Octavia’s is dark blue, and smaller. Then there’s the obvious: when Octavia was seventeen, she got the original tattoo done secretly. Three days later, her tattoo darkened, and then three small stars appeared around the infinity sign. She still hasn’t met her soulmate, but she tells Bellamy that she knows her soulmate is a keeper, since they added to the tattoo instead of trying to change it. (“It’s almost like they were trying to tell me they liked it,” she told him, wistfully.)

Bellamy doesn’t really believe in soulmarks. 

He doesn’t think they’re terrible or anything, but he just simply doesn’t believe that something as simple as deciding to get a tattoo could possibly lead to someone finding their soulmate. People get tattoos for all kinds of reasons, so why would him finally deciding to get one of his own make the mark appear on someone else’s skin? Why would he want to burden someone with a mark like that if they didn’t want one?

For all he knows, his soulmate is a person who’s already got their own life, and he would just complicate things. It’s a fantastical idea that his cynical brain doesn’t want to believe in. He’s seen people who were so excited to meet their soulmates and then ended up feeling empty when their soulmate wasn’t ready for them, or didn’t want them.

He’s lost enough in his life; he doesn’t need to meet someone that’s supposedly perfect for him and have them completely reject him. 

“I have to get to work,” he reminds his sister gently. “Can you bandage this up? I forgot to tell Miller I was going to run late.”

Bellamy is a cop. He walks the beat, which isn’t the best situation, but luckily he likes his partner, and the area he patrols in is usually pretty quiet. They’ve got a tour this afternoon, a shift that’s probably going to go until late in the evening, and he knows he’s probably going to regret getting a tattoo on the same day that he has to work.

Octavia puts a fresh bandage over his wrist and gives him some lotion to put on the tattoo when it starts to get itchy and red. “Keep it hydrated,” she instructs, and he nods, leaning in to kiss her forehead.

“Thanks, O. I’ll call you later, okay? Get home safe.”

Bellamy leaves and heads down the street to get to his precinct, conscious of the fresh bandage on his wrist. When he gets inside, he heads to the locker room to change into his uniform. He sees Miller, who just rolls his eyes.

“You’re always late.”

“I’m not always late.” Bellamy says as he pulls on his shirt, attaching his name badge and shield to his uniform. “I got a tattoo this morning.”

Bellamy isn’t really sure why he’s telling Miller this -- he’s sure his partner could care less about soulmarks and tattoos and what it all means. 

Miller stops tying his boots and looks up. “Really? Any particular reason?”

“My sister’s been bugging me to get one done. Felt like the right time.”

“Sounds pretty sentimental for someone who doesn’t believe in soulmates,” Miller comments teasingly. 

“Easy for you to say, you’ve already got your soulmate and are a perfect match.”

They finish getting dressed and walk out to the patrol car after being addressed by their C.O. and getting their orders for the day. They have a standard tour, but they’re also being told to keep an eye out for civilians who look like they need help near the NYU campus. 

“This is exam time, and it’s not a joke,” Sergeant Kane tells them during roll call. “We see a higher number of panic attacks, suicides and distressed civilians this time of year than any other time, especially for those of you who patrol in the University district. Keep an eye out for anyone who looks like they need help, or anyone causing a scene. We need to keep this place safe.”

They’ve been on their tour for an hour when they’re approached by a frantic looking girl in front of a coffee shop near the NYU campus.

“Ma’am, is everything okay?” Miller asks, rolling down the window. 

“There’s a girl-- she’s in one of the dorms, and she keeps saying she’s going to-- she’s going to go up to the roof!” 

Bellamy’s face hardens. This isn’t the first time he’s responded to a distress call like this, but it’s the first time that it’s happened on campus. 

Miller radios into dispatch and tells them they’re responding to a possible 10-50, a disorderly person. Together they get out of the car and follow the girl back to her dorm, where they can hear shouting from the inside.

“Does she have a weapon?” Bellamy asks carefully, not taking his eyes off the open window he can see on one of the top floors. He thinks the noise is coming from there.

“I don’t think so. There’s someone in there with her.”

“Roommate?”

“I-- I don’t know! I just heard shouting and I heard her say she was going to jump.”

“Okay,” Bellamy says, his tone soothing. “I want you to stay here with Officer Miller, and I’m going to go up to help, okay?”

“Bellamy--” Miller tries to interrupt.

“Miller, radio for backup. Tell them we might need a bus to our location.”

Miller nods grimly, and leads the girl who told them about the incident back to the patrol car. 

Bellamy grits his teeth and heads inside, following the noise to the dorm room on the fourth floor. People are milling about outside their doors, watching warily from the hallways, and he shoos them back inside. 

Approaching the open door, he stops when he sees a blonde girl with her back to him talking softly to a brunette. 

“Charlotte, just come over here, okay? We’ll talk.”

“You can’t fix this, Clarke!”

The blonde girl -- Clarke -- takes a tentative step forward, and Bellamy tenses, not sure if he should reveal himself or not. “Charlotte, listen to me. This isn’t so bad, is it? So bad that you’d want to do something crazy?”

“It _is_ bad! Look at what having a soulmate did to my mother! My dad was her soulmate and he still treated her like garbage! Why would I want to deal with that?”

Bellamy frowns. He’s dealt with his share of soulmark-related incidents since graduating from the academy, but he’s suddenly worried that he won’t be able to say what this girl needs to hear to calm down.

Taking a breath, Bellamy knocks softly on the door frame. Both girls’ heads snap up to look at him, and he holds his hands up. “NYPD,” he says, “Is everything okay in here?”

“Everything’s fine,” the blonde girl snaps, and when her eyes meet his, Bellamy feels a current run right through him. Her eyes are a piercing blue, and he feels for a minute like he can’t look away. He shakes off the feeling quickly.

“We heard shouting. What seems to be the problem here?”

“The _problem_ is that I just got my soulmark,” the brunette -- Charlotte, he remembers -- says, her voice thick with tears. “I don’t want it.”

“Charlotte, just think about this for a second, okay?” Clarke says, her voice pleading.

“Ma’am, I need you to leave the room.” Bellamy interrupts, speaking to Clarke.

“What?” Her voice is incredulous. “No! I’m not leaving.”

“It’s Charlotte, right?” Bellamy says softly, ignoring Clarke. “Look, your friend is right. Doing something irrational isn’t the way to deal with this.”

Charlotte glares at him. Bellamy thinks she can’t be more than eighteen. “Do you have your soulmark?” 

Bellamy doesn’t know what to say. Technically, yes. But his didn’t just _show up_. He has a flash of whoever his soulmate is reacting this way to their mark showing up on their skin, unwanted, and he wants to throw up. “No,” he says carefully. 

“Neither does she,” Charlotte spits, gesturing towards Clarke. “Neither of you know what I’m going through.” She looks towards the window almost longingly. “I don’t want to belong to anyone.”

“Charlotte, a soulmark doesn’t mean that you’re someone’s property!” Clarke says softly, trying to get her attention away from the window. 

Bellamy’s radio crackles on his shoulder, Miller telling him that there’s an ambulance on the way just in case. 

“Charlotte, listen to me. You can have a soulmark and not do anything about it. You still have a choice,” Clarke says firmly. 

“And what about when I start to feel their emotions? What then? Am I just supposed to pretend for the rest of my life that I can’t feel it?” 

“Miller, I need you to get under the fourth floor window, third from the left,” Bellamy says quietly into his radio. 

“10-4,” Miller says, his gruff voice echoing in the room. 

“What are you _doing_?” Clarke hisses at him, barely taking her eyes off Charlotte who has edged closer to the window. 

“I’m trying to save this girl’s life.” Bellamy mutters back. 

“I had it under control until you showed up.” 

“Yeah, that’s obvious,” Bellamy says sarcastically, and they both glare at each other until Charlotte’s voice gets their attention.

“Clarke, this isn’t your fault,” she says quietly, and it almost happens in slow motion. Clarke’s eyes go wide, and Bellamy takes two long strides to the window, but not before Charlotte pulls herself up, and jumps.

For a minute, neither one of them moves. 

“Oh, _god_ \--” Clarke says, before rushing over to the window. Bellamy follows, and lets out a relieved breath when he looks over the edge and sees Charlotte half on top of Miller. She’s hurt, clearly, but it looks like Miller and two other cops managed to break her fall.

“She’s okay,” Bellamy says, not sure if he’s reassuring himself, or Clarke. Clearing his throat, he turns to the blonde. “I’m going to need you to come make a statement,” he says, sighing. “Miss…--”

“Griffin,” Clarke answers. “I--” she shakes her head, and then turns to him, eyes blazing. “This never would have happened if you would have just let me handle it!”

Bellamy feels his blood boil. “Excuse me? This is my job. I’m trained to talk people down. Are you?”

Clarke scoffs. “Yeah, you did a good job, didn’t you?”

It feels like a slap to the face, and Bellamy visibly recoils. Clarke’s face switches to sheepish rather quickly, but it doesn’t dull the sting of her words. Bellamy tries to tamp down his anger.

“I’m sorry if I inconvenienced you by _doing my job_ , but I could have handled this a lot better if you weren’t here.” He suddenly feels his anger boil over. “You only made things worse.”

Clarke looks stricken, but recovers quickly. “You know what? Go fuck yourself.”

Bellamy’s gut clenches at the hurt in her voice. “You need to come downstairs and make a statement. Charlotte would probably like it if you rode with her to the hospital, too.”

Without looking to see her reaction, Bellamy leaves, wondering why some flippant words from a girl he barely knows are affecting him so much.

.

.

Clarke rides to the hospital with Charlotte in a daze. She doesn’t know Charlotte all that well, just enough to try to help the girl when she started screaming in the room across the hall from where Clarke’s friend Raven lives. 

Clarke had been on her way to visit Raven, who, it turned out, wasn’t even home, when she heard the scream from the room across the hall. Worried that someone needed help, Clarke pushed on the semi-open door to see Charlotte there, staring at the mark forming on her skin.

The rest seems to go by in a blur in her memory, but Clarke still feels a flare of anger when she remembers Officer Blake barging in and spooking Charlotte into jumping. She knows it’s not fair to blame the entire thing on him, but she thinks she could have _helped_ Charlotte.

“Clarke?” Charlotte asks blearily. “I-- I didn’t mean to, I mean-- I didn’t _want_ to--”

“It’s okay,” Clarke soothes. “We’re going to the hospital to get your leg looked at, and it’s going to be okay. I promise.”

“Okay,” Charlotte slurs, and then she’s asleep, the pain medicine the EMT gave her for her leg kicking in. 

At the hospital, they take her immediately to surgery, leaving Clarke in the waiting room. They think she’s broken her leg in three places, and will need some reconstruction work before she can walk again. Despite Charlotte’s words when it happened, Clarke feels like this is her fault.

Unconsciously, Clarke rubs at her own soul mark. It’s stopped hurting, and hasn’t really bothered her. She feels guilty about it. Charlotte had her mark for fifteen minutes, and it caused her more pain and anxiety than Clarke has had all day dealing with the appearance of hers.

She doesn’t know how long she sits there, but one minute she’s alone, and the next, there’s someone drops into the chair next to her, thrusting a cup of coffee at her.

“You look like you could use this.”

When she looks up, she sees Officer Blake, two coffees in his hands. “I wanted to see how she was doing,” he explains at her questioning look.

She doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing. She takes a tentative sip of the coffee he offers and is pleasantly surprised when it’s not too sweet and not too bitter. 

“I’m sorry if you feel like I overstepped or something back there,” he says quietly, “it’s my job to try to protect people, and even if you didn’t realize it, it included you in that moment.”

“I could have handled it.”

“I’m sure you could have, but when someone calls the police and I show up, then it becomes my job to handle it.”

“You didn’t really try to ease Charlotte’s mind at all,” Clarke says, watching his face carefully.

His head snaps up to look at her, his face twisted in a frown. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just saying; she was freaking out about her soulmate and for someone who wanted me to just get out of the way, you didn’t really say anything to her that would have calmed her down.”

His eyes flash. “Sorry if I don’t think discovering your soulmate is necessarily the best thing in the world, especially for a young girl who clearly didn’t want hers.”

“You can’t know how your soulmate is going to turn out, though!” Clarke protests. “It could turn out to be the greatest discovery of your life.” Her voice is high, bordering on hysteric, and she wonders who she’s trying to convince, here.

“All I know is that soulmates are a unique kind of torture,” Officer Blake says. “You wake up one day, just trying to live your life, and now there’s a person you have to take into consideration before you do anything. Now, there’s a person who can literally feel what you’re feeling. That’s got to freak some people out, don’t you think? It’s not always sunshine and rainbows with soulmates,” he says quietly.

“Trust me, I know,” Clarke says bitterly, thinking of her parents.

“Then you should know that the way Charlotte was feeling? She had already made up her mind what to think about her mark. There was nothing you or I could have done to change her mind.”

Clarke takes a moment to study Officer Blake as he fixes his attention on his shoes, absentmindedly tapping the sides of his coffee cup with the pads of his fingers. He’s young, she realizes, probably not that much older than her, and he already looks like he has the entire weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“I’m not sure throwing our guilt at each other is going to change things,” she admits, her voice soft. “So… I guess I owe you an apology too.”

Officer Blake’s radio comes to life at his shoulder, someone radioing in a code she doesn’t recognize. He smiles apologetically before getting to his feet. “Duty calls. For the record? You don’t owe me an apology. You just owe me four dollars for that cup of coffee.”

Clarke can’t help it; she grins despite herself, letting out an affronted noise. 

“I have to go. I’ll probably come back tomorrow to get Charlotte’s statement since she won’t be awake for a few hours. I’ll see you around,” he says, but it comes out as more of a question. 

“See you around,” Clarke agrees, feeling suddenly shy. She holds out her hand for Officer Blake to shake, and when he takes it, she feels a strange sensation run up her arm from where they’re touching all the way through her body. She freezes momentarily, and then lets go of his hand just as quickly as she took it, trying to understand what just happened.

“I have to go,” he says, his voice sounding funny, but he’s gone before she can try to figure out what the hell just happened between the two of them, or if she just imagined the whole thing.

.

.

Bellamy walks back to the precinct in a daze. There’s something about Clarke that he can’t quite pinpoint, but he can’t help but feel the disappointment flood his body when he remembers the faint edge of a tattoo peeking out from under her shirt sleeve when he shook her hand.

Obviously Clarke has a soulmate. That’s probably why she spent so long with Charlotte trying to tell the younger girl that not all soulmates were terrible or burdens to their partners. She can speak from experience, apparently.

Bellamy’s not sure why he’s feeling the sting of this revelation so keenly. He’s known Clarke for all of six hours, and he’s pretty sure she doesn’t give a damn about him. Although… for one second when they shook hands, the look on her face made it seem like… no. 

He’s not going to dwell on it. There’s no point. She’s just a girl that he barely knows -- a girl with a _soulmate_ \-- and there’s no point in getting all sappy over it.

Rubbing at his wrist absently, he remembers that somewhere out there in the world, there’s the perfect person for him just waiting to be discovered. The odds of his soulmate being a person he would run into the very day he got his tattoo are astronomical, anyway.

When he gets to the precinct, he heads inside to see how Miller is getting along filing the report by himself. 

“Nice of you to show up,” Miller grumbles when Bellamy gets to their adjoined desks. They never use them for anything, it’s usually the detectives who keep the place occupied while they’re out on their tours, but Bellamy’s got a few photos and things that his sister forced upon him to ‘spruce the place up’. He sinks into his chair across from Miller, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“You okay?” Miller asks, looking up from his paperwork.

“Fine.”

“Are you sure? You just saw a girl jump out of a window.”

“I’d be worse off if she hadn’t lived.”

Miller looks at him warily. “Something else is bothering you.” He sets down his pen, takes a breath, and leans back in his chair. “All right, let’s have it. Did Octavia do something crazy?”

“No. I-- I’m fine. I just feel bad that I couldn’t talk Charlotte down.”

Miller nods. “She’s lucky. She’ll be okay.”

“Yeah.” Bellamy runs a hand over his face. “Is the paperwork a bitch?”

“Oh, yeah. You owe me, like, twenty beers.”

.

.

Bellamy ends up going to the bar with Miller and his sister that night. He doesn’t really want to, but he’s trying to get rid of these strange lingering feelings that haven’t gone away since seeing Clarke at the hospital. 

He ends up being grateful for the invitation to go out -- they have a good time and he forgets about the strange things he’s been feeling all day, except for later in the evening when he suddenly gets the feeling that the melancholy emotions that are running through him are not his own.

When he excuses himself to go outside and get some air, he feels it again, a sadness that seems to strike him out of nowhere. The thought that his soulmate’s feelings are starting to bleed through to his own consciousness is all at once thrilling and scary, because he’s heard of this before. 

_Soulmates can sometimes feel what their partner is feeling,_ he remembers his mother telling him once when he was younger. Was that what this was? More importantly, _who_ was his soulmate? He’s never done much research, so he’s not sure if distance plays a role in being able to feel emotions through your partner, but he thinks so, which makes him believe that his soulmate is a person in the city. 

He tries not to think about it. He goes home later that night and flips through the channels, trying to find something to take his mind off what he believes could be his life changing while he feels powerless to stop it.

.

.

Clarke tries not to think about her tattoo for the next few days. She has a few exams and some papers to write, and the excuse to bury herself in research and writing is a good one. It works for awhile, but when she feels the most stressed, she feels herself reach for the mark on her wrist, the one that’s never far from her thoughts no matter what she tells herself.

It’s raining on a Wednesday when she decides she can’t stand the sight of her apartment anymore. She needs a break, so she reaches for her umbrella and a jacket and heads out in search of a good cup of coffee. It’s been awhile since she’s treated herself to a fancy latte, so she heads to a coffeehouse near campus that always overcharges, but delivers a great mocha. 

Trying to close her umbrella and open the front door at the same time, she looks down for a split second before she feels herself run right into someone as she comes through the door.

“Shit,” the person says, and her heart does a stupid flutter in her chest when she recognizes his voice.

“Officer Blake?” She asks, looking on in dismay as he dabs at the front of his jacket. His efforts are proving to be useless as a stain rapidly forms on his jacket. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking--”

“Clarke, hi.” He says, interrupting her. “It was an accident, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re not on duty today?” She asks, referring to his plain clothes. 

“Not today. Why, are you okay? Did something happen with Charlotte?” The barely-masked concern in his eyes has Clarke smiling despite herself. She doesn’t know what it is about him that makes her feel so… so _relaxed_. 

“I’m fine. Well, besides being a total klutz,” she says, feeling the color rising high on her cheeks when she sees how large the stain on his jacket has gotten. “Let me buy you a refill,” she says, and he smiles this smile at her, one that has no business being exchanged between two people who are still practically strangers, and for one mortifying second, she can feel herself leaning closer, almost being pulled magnetically towards him. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he tells her, “And I think you can call me Bellamy. Anyone who dumps a drink on me gets first-name privileges.” 

Oh _god_ , she thinks, is he _flirting_? She doesn’t really know what to do, so she just ducks her head to try to hide her smile. “Let me at least get your jacket dry cleaned. Really, it’s the least I can do.” 

“Yeah, okay,” he says, after a minute. He tosses his now-empty coffee cup in the trash and starts to take off his jacket when she spots it. Her entire vision seems to tunnel to the spot on his wrist where, very clearly, she sees a dark, infinity symbol. 

She actually worries for a second that she might faint, because that’s _her_ mark. The same one that showed up on her wrist last week is right there, on his wrist. _This can’t be happening_ , she thinks dazedly as he pulls his jacket off and hands it to her, his face expectant.

“You really don’t have to do this,” he says, his deep voice breaking through her thoughts, and she looks back at him, this man before her so different from the gruff police officer she met a week ago. 

She forces a smile on her face, taking his jacket from him and draping it over her arm. “I can get it back to you soon,” she says, “but I really have to go now.” 

Is it her imagination or does he actually look disappointed for a split second? “Sure, right. Um…” he rubs the back of his neck and the awkward gesture is so endearing for a second that Clarke can’t drag her eyes away. “You can bring it to the precinct. I’ve got morning tour for the next two weeks, starts at 6. So, just bring it to the 5-4 one morning. You know where that is?”

“I’ll figure it out,” she says. “Sorry, again.”

“Not a problem.” He looks like he wants to say something else, his brows furrowing for a second, but he stops himself. “Take care of yourself, Clarke.”

“You too, Bellamy.” She replies, softly, and they meet each other’s eyes again briefly before he heads out the door, and she’s left standing there, clutching his jacket like a lifeline as she tries to figure out what just happened.

She’s barely come to terms with the fact that she has a soulmate, and now she finds out it’s the same person who railed against soulmates as some kind of… some kind of _torture_. Suddenly not in the mood for coffee, she heads straight back to her apartment, not even remembering she has Bellamy’s jacket until she tosses it on her couch, staring at it, arms crossed. 

Not knowing what else to do, she digs in her purse for her phone, dialing the one number she’s had memorized since she was eight years old. When her mother answers, Clarke feels a lump in her throat and finds herself blinking back tears. “Mom?”

“Clarke, are you okay?”

“Mom, I’m-- I-- I met my soulmate today.”

Her mother is quiet. “You’re freaking out.”

“I’m _not_ freaking out.”

“It’s okay, honey. I remember when I met your Dad. I was a nervous wreck.”

“I just-- Mom-- I remember what happened to you when Dad died. How can I possibly go through that? I’ve lost so many people in my life already, I can’t go through that feeling again.”

“Clarke, calm down,” her mother says, her politician’s voice seeping through. “When your Dad-- when we lost your Dad, you’re right. I was hurt. It was like nothing I’ve ever felt. But Clarke… the times I _had_ your Dad with me… those can’t ever be taken away from me.”

“You and Dad fought like cats and dogs,” Clarke says dryly. 

“Sometimes,” her mother agrees. “But when it was good? It was really good, honey. He was my match, in every way that mattered.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Clarke doesn’t even recognize her own voice, it’s so small. 

“You should talk to them. They’re your match; you don’t have to rush things. Try to get to know them as a person, not just as your soulmate. Do they know that you’re matched?”

Clarke is quiet, biting on her fingernail. “No. Not that I know of. We’re-- we barely know each other.”

“Just take things as they come, then. No pressure. If you’re their match, you’ll get it figured out eventually.” 

Clarke sighs, her eyes slipping shut. “Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome. And Clarke? Your Dad… the pain of losing your Dad was one of the worst things I’ve ever felt. But loving him? That feeling was the best thing.”

.

.

The thing about New York City is that every cop seems to know every other cop, and their business. Bellamy isn’t in the precinct for two minutes before someone starts ribbing him about the “pretty blonde” who was waiting for him at the squad.

He hears it from two detectives, his sergeant, and of course, Miller. 

“Isn’t that the girl from NYU?” 

“That’s her,” Bellamy says, catching sight of Clarke’s blonde hair out of the corner of his eye. He takes his time signing out his weapon and finds himself fiddling with his uniform, until Miller notices and starts laughing. 

“Shut up. She dumped a coffee on me the other day and insisted on getting my jacket dry cleaned.”

“I’m sure she _insisted_.” 

“Shut up,” Bellamy repeats, through gritted teeth. “Bring the car around. I’ll meet you in the front.”

Miller salutes. “Oh sure, your highness.”

Ignoring him, Bellamy heads into the squad room, near the detective’s desk where Clarke is waiting for him, looking around nervously. 

“Clarke,” he says, greeting her.

“Hey.” She stands up, smiling at him, and for a second, it’s all he can do to remind himself that _she has a soulmate_. He has no business looking at her this way, or thinking about her at all. “I, uh, I have your jacket.” She thrusts it out towards him, and he smiles reassuringly at her. 

“Is everything okay, Clarke?” He asks, pulling her by her elbow into a more quiet area of the precinct. “You seem… you seem a little rattled.”

“I’m fine, I’m just really busy. I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

Now, Bellamy isn’t a detective, but he does think he’s a pretty damn good cop. He’s gotten good at telling when people are lying to him. He doesn’t know Clarke that well though, so he’s not sure how much he should push her to tell him what’s bothering her. He gets the distinct impression it’s something to do with _him_ , and the thought leaves him unsettled. 

Realizing he’s still touching her, he drops his arm awkwardly back to his side and watches as she glances around the room, looking everywhere but at him.

“Thanks for bringing this,” he says. “I won’t keep you. I better not keep Miller waiting, either.”

Clarke looks at him finally, an embarrassed smile on her face. “I still can’t believe I spilled your coffee all over you.”

“Well, now you owe me eight dollars for coffee,” he teases, reminding her of the coffee he brought her that day at the hospital. 

A real smile crosses her face then, and he’s momentarily blindsided by it. He’s not sure why he’s letting this one girl affect him so much. She has a soulmate, so she clearly doesn’t need a misguided crush to add to her already busy life.

Her smile slowly fades when she realizes how close they’re standing, and he watches the mask she tries so hard to keep up slip back over her face. “I should get going.” she says, biting her lip as she looks down at her feet. “I have classes today that I really can’t be late for, so…”

Bellamy frowns. “Clarke, did I do something to upset you? I never meant to--”

“No,” she says quickly. “No, I just-- we don’t really know each other, do we?”

Bellamy is taken aback. He knows they’re not really friends, but he thinks they _could_ be, and let’s face it - he doesn’t really have a lot of friends. He wouldn’t mind having one like her. “I guess we don’t--”

“Right. So, we don’t have to act like we’re friends. I brought your coat back because it was my fault it got stained in the first place, but that’s all it was.”

Bellamy wonders dimly why he feels so upset. He knows something is bothering her. They may not be friends, as she keeps pointing out, but he’s not an idiot. She is a terrible liar. “Fine.” He replies, his voice flat. “Thanks for bringing this back.”

“Of course. I’ll see you around, Bellamy.”

She’s gone before he can come up with a response, and he’s left watching the back of her head as she goes, wondering why he feels like he’s just let something important walk right out of his life.

.

.

_Okay_ , Clarke thinks as she walks to class, _I probably could have been nicer about that_. She literally did the exact opposite of what her mother told her to do. Instead of talking to Bellamy, trying to become his friend, or… or _something_ , she pushed him away with hurtful words.

She almost wants to laugh, because this is what she’s always done. Whenever she’s gotten scared, or felt herself getting too close to someone, she’s pushed them away. Her first defense mechanism is to close off every part of herself so she doesn’t get hurt. 

When she gets to her biology lab, she takes a seat where she normally does, and tries to concentrate on what she’s doing. It’s just as well, she thinks, that she ended whatever her and Bellamy have been doing. They barely know each other, but she knows he’s her soulmate. She doesn’t think he’s realized it yet, but if they kept spending time together, sooner or later he would have figured it out.

Giving someone so much power over her, so many opportunities to break her heart… it was too much. It’s just as well that she pushed Bellamy away. She already knows she’s attracted to him, so it’s just as well. After all, they’re soulmates. It’s practically fate. If she would have spent more time with him and undoubtedly found out that he’s a wonderful person, she only would have fallen harder, and then losing him in the end ( _because everyone always leaves, they always leave_ , her mind reminds her)... it would have hurt too much.

She barely pays attention in any of her classes that day. Her mind is filled with all sorts of what-if’s, and she hates herself for being so distracted. She can’t help but think of her parents at a time like this, and remembers what her mother said about being loved by her Dad.

When her Dad was killed in a car accident, Clarke was there with her mother. She was there in the hospital, clutching her mother’s hand, terrified. She was there when her mother’s soulmark - a swirling pattern on her forearm - turned a wispy gray before turning white, like a scar on her skin. She was there when her mother practically collapsed due to the strength of her sobs. 

Clarke has never let herself think about what it would be like to meet her soulmate. To her, it was more trouble than it was worth. She doesn’t want to ever feel like how her mother felt when her Dad died.

Sighing, Clarke heads into her apartment, suddenly feeling exhausted. She figures she won’t go out of her way to avoid Bellamy. New York City is large enough that she probably won’t have to worry about it for too much longer. Though, if what people say about soulmates is to be believed, it’s only a matter of time before they run into each other again.

.

.

_One month later_

Clarke pushes her cart in the grocery store almost on autopilot, her mind on a hundred other things besides groceries. She has more exams coming up, and while she feels prepared, she also can’t shake the feeling that she’s missing something or forgetting something.

Turning a corner, the cart gives a jolt as she runs into someone, and Clarke is apologizing before she even looks up from her list. “I’m so sorry--”

“Clarke.”

Clarke’s head snaps up to meet Bellamy’s eyes, and she knows how she must look -- like a deer in the headlights. “Bellamy, hi.”

He smiles at her, but it’s small and unsure. “We’ve got to stop meeting with you causing me bodily harm.”

Clarke can’t help it, she laughs, and the look on his face is almost too much for her to bear. 

“How have you been?” He asks, but his voice sounds almost strangled. She won’t let herself think that them seeing each other again is affecting him like it is her. She takes in the features of his face -- the freckles that are appearing on his forehead and cheeks now that the weather is getting warmer and the little bit of scruff she can make out on his jaw. 

“I’m doing well, I’m just really busy with school.”

“So, the usual, right?” He teases gently. “Have you talked to Charlotte recently?”

Clarke smiles; he’s so easy to read sometimes, ever the protector. “She’s back at school. She’s doing a lot better.” She pauses, wondering if she should say the next part. “She, uh-- she actually met her soulmate. It’s a girl name Danielle. She’s sweet, and they’re-- well, they’re appropriately nauseating.” 

Bellamy grins, and the sight of it twists Clarke’s insides. “That’s really good. I’m glad things turned around for her.” His eyes bore into hers, and Clarke gets the idea that he’s not really talking about Charlotte anymore.

A woman comes down the aisle and huffs when she can’t get past Clarke’s cart, and almost shoves Clarke out of the way in her haste to get through. As a result, Clarke moves sideways quickly, and Bellamy reaches out to steady her, his hand gentle but firm on her elbow.

Clarke sucks in a breath at the feeling of the skin to skin contact, and hopes against all hope he doesn’t notice. This is exactly what she wanted to avoid. 

“Clarke--” He starts, swallowing. “I-- Can I ask you something?”

_Oh no_ , Clarke thinks, _I’m not ready for this conversation_. “Um--” she tucks her hair back behind her ears, a nervous habit. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’m-- this is going to come out really forward, and I know you--” he stops, huffs at himself like he’s frustrated. “I know you have a soulmate.”

Clarke’s entire body tenses, and she’s aware of the fact that if he would just glance down, he could see her tattoo so clearly. She doesn’t know what she’ll do when he realizes. 

He continues, unaware of her internal struggle. “I saw part of your mark when we were at the hospital with Charlotte. I know you have a soulmate, and I don’t want to do anything to get in the way of that. But Clarke, I--” he takes a deep breath, “-- I’ve been thinking about you nonstop since last month.” He says it in a rush, like he won’t be able to get the words out if he takes his time. “I swear I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want, but I just need to know if I’m making this all up.”

“Bellamy…”

“The way I feel when I’m near you… it’s strange and I don’t know how to describe it, but I know I’m not imagining it. I don’t know what I did to push you away, but Clarke, if you’re pushing me away because you’re afraid, then that’s okay, that’s--”

“Stop, Bellamy, stop.” Clarke says, feeling herself start to shake. He’s still gripping her elbow like he’s afraid she’ll disappear if he lets go. “Please, I’m--”

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, and I don’t--” he rakes a hand through his hair, clearly upset. “I know I have no right to do this. But-- but I can’t leave here knowing that I didn’t at least try.”

Clarke meets his eyes, and she’s blown away by the honesty she finds in his dark brown eyes, wide with emotion as he gazes back down at her.

She doesn’t know what to do. Everything she wants is right here, literally right at her fingertips. It wouldn’t be that hard to just draw his attention down to her wrist, where she has a mark that perfectly matches his. It wouldn’t be hard for him to realize that she _does_ have a soulmate, but that it’s _him_. 

It wouldn’t be that hard, but it’s what happens _after_ that she’s so scared of. Bellamy Blake has the power to break her, and he doesn’t even know it. 

“Bellamy, I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Bellamy’s eyes slide shut briefly, but he recovers, nodding at her. “I’m sorry, Clarke. I didn’t mean to--”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay. It’s just--”

“You have a soulmate,” he finishes for her, his voice flat. “I know. I didn’t mean to disrespect that. I just thought--” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“Bellamy,” Clarke says gently, urging him to look at her. “I’m sorry. I don’t-- I don’t want to hurt you, but you’re right. I have a soulmate.” She takes a deep breath, deciding just to go for it. There’s no way this can possibly get any worse. “Bellamy, I’m--”

He stops her. “You don’t owe me any explanations, Clarke. I’m sorry to have dumped all this on you.”

“No, you don’t understand--”

“Really, Clarke. You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I get it. I’m really sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.” He laughs a little bitterly, “And to think we were getting along so well.”

“Bellamy--”

“I really have to go.”

Clarke can make out the distress in his tone and she hates this, hates that she can’t even get the words out to tell him that he’s not the only one feeling this way. “Are you going to work?”

“I’m--” he lets out a sharp laugh, almost hysteric. “I’m going anywhere that isn’t here, where you think I’m a total idiot. I’m so sorry, Clarke.”

He’s gone before she can tell him that this the _least_ one sided thing she’s ever felt.

.

.

Three weeks later, Bellamy is grabbing a cup of coffee on tour when he hears it -- a small whimper coming from the corner of the coffee shop. Frowning, he sees a little boy sitting by himself, cheeks and eyes red with tears. 

“How long has that kid been in here?” Bellamy asks the barista, rolling his eyes when the guy just shrugs. 

Walking closer to the little boy, he crouches down in front of him. “Hey, buddy. Do you know who I am?”

“A policeman.” The little boy answers, rubbing his face with his hand. 

Bellamy nods. “That’s right. Are you here all by yourself?” The little boy nods, and Bellamy can see tears welling in his eyes again. “How about you come with me, and then we can call your Mom, okay?”

“I’m not supposed to go with strangers!” The little boy says, sounding distressed, and Bellamy nods quickly, hoping to stop any more tears. 

“That’s a good rule to have. Did your Mom tell you what police officers do?”

“They help people.”

“Right. I want to help you find your parents, okay? But for me to do that, I have to go back to the police station so I can keep an eye on you. Sound good? Now, can you tell me your name?”

The little boy nods, and Bellamy holds out his hand, relieved when he takes it immediately. 

“I’m Derek.”

“Okay, Derek. Did you come here with your Mom or Dad today?” He asks as they start to walk out to the patrol car. 

“My Mom was in line and I went to the bathroom, and when I came out she was gone,” he says, his lower lip trembling.

“Okay, it’s going to be okay. We’re going to find your Mom and get you back home. She’s probably worried about you, too.”

The ride back to the station is uneventful. Bellamy radios in and tells dispatch that he’s got a missing kid. They haven’t received any reports yet, but Bellamy hopes the kid’s Mom will call in to the station looking for him soon. 

While he feels bad for Derek and knows he’s scared, a small part of Bellamy welcomes the distraction. It’s been almost another month since he’s seen Clarke, and he hasn’t been able to get her out of his head. 

It’s pathetic, really. He doesn’t know why he’s so drawn to her, or why she’s left such an impression on him. He feels extra pathetic because he’s absolutely sure that she hasn’t wasted a minute thinking about him. Their scene at the grocery store left no doubt that whatever feelings he has, they’re one sided. 

She has a soulmate. Hell, _he_ has a soulmate. He got a tattoo, and he’s been feeling the connection grow stronger everyday. It hasn’t stopped him from falling for Clarke, though. There’s something about her that he can’t put his finger on. Besides being probably the most beautiful person he’s ever seen, she’s so caring, and he knows how smart she is. 

He’s been extra stressed too, because he’s been feeling his soulmate’s emotions again. Whoever they are, they are so _sad_ , and it sort of breaks Bellamy’s heart. There was one day not too long ago where he suddenly felt so upset that he almost felt a tear escape his eye, and it was so unsettling he wasted no time in getting absolutely wasted in his apartment. It was the only thing he could think of to do to get rid of the unwanted feelings. 

He’s suddenly so angry about the whole situation. Why would the universe give him a soulmate and _still_ let Clarke wander into his life? How is that fair? How can the feelings he has for Clarke be so strong when they barely know each other? How is it possible if she’s not his soulmate? He’s never heard anything about one-sided matches before, and he doesn’t want to think about the possibility that Clarke might be his soulmate, but he isn’t hers. It hurts too much.

Arriving at the squad, Bellamy grips Derek’s hand tight in his once more, heading inside. It seems like Derek has gotten over being scared and shy, and has taken to talking nonstop about his little league baseball team. Bellamy supposed this is better than crying. 

“Miller,” Bellamy greets his partner when he gets back. “This is the kid I called in about. We need to find his parents.” Bending down, he speaks to Derek. “This is my partner, Nathan. He’s going to help you find your Mom, okay?”

A flash of panic sparks through Derek’s eyes and he flings his arms around Bellamy’s neck. “No! No, I don’t want you to go!” 

“Derek--”

“No!”

Bellamy sighs, nodding at Miller to head back inside. He crouches down to get a better grip on the little boy who has attached himself to his side, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees a flash of blonde. 

Distracted, he looks up from the sidewalk of the precinct, and his breath leaves him when he sees her stop mid-step to stare right back at him, her eyes wide like she didn’t expect to see him here outside of where he works. 

The sunlight reflects off her blonde curls, and he can just make out the birthmark above her lip, the one that he always had to keep himself from looking at. They make eye contact briefly, and he’s aware that he needs to snap out of it and help Derek, but he can’t look away from Clarke. He’s been thinking about her for weeks, and suddenly there she is, looking at him like she can’t believe he’s real. 

He shouldn’t feel this way about her. They barely know each other, he reminds himself bitterly, just like she said. They’ve only met a few times, but each of those times, he felt exactly like this. This undeniable connection between the two of them is so strong sometimes that he _knows_ he can’t be imagining it. 

_She has a soulmate, idiot_ , his mind screams at him. 

“I don’t want you to go,” Derek repeats, and Bellamy looks down at the little boy. 

“I know, buddy. Let’s go inside, and--” he stops for a second, looking back up, and feels disappointment like a punch in the gut when he notices Clarke isn’t there anymore. 

And why would she be? He has no business wishing he could talk to her to try to figure out where he ever went wrong. He knows they got off on the wrong foot, but he thought their meetings after the incident with Charlotte were fine, if a little awkward. 

_It doesn’t matter anymore_ , he thinks bitterly. _You have a job to do_ , he reminds himself, and hefts Derek off his feet, heading into the precinct. 

.

.

Clarke takes a deep breath, pressing her back against the blessedly cool brick of the precinct. What was she thinking; walking this way on her way to meet Raven? Obviously she remembers that Bellamy works at this station, and she doesn’t know why she had been so surprised to see him there. 

It wasn’t just _seeing_ him that seems to have done her in, though. No. He was there, crouched on the sidewalk speaking to a little boy, and something about the sight of him in his uniform, speaking gently and in hushed tones to a little boy… all the attraction she’s felt for Bellamy since realizing he is her soulmate came to a head in that moment. It only got worse when he looked up and saw her standing there.

When they made eye contact… well, there’s no denying it. Bellamy Blake is her match. She felt it as their eyes met, as his eyes widened and then softened, as if he’d been looking for her, too. It’s a stupid thought. He has no idea they’re soulmates. They haven’t even seen each other or spoken to each other in weeks. 

The way he looked at her though… it makes her breath back up in her chest when she remembers the intense look in his dark eyes. It was too much, and she left as soon as they broke eye contact, hurrying around the corner so she could try to catch her breath.

_Stupid_ , she thinks. This was all her own doing. She was the one who pushed Bellamy away. She was the one who told him that he was barely more than an acquaintance to her. This was all her fault, so she has no reason to feel so sad about it. 

It doesn’t help, though. It doesn’t help, and she doesn’t know how to fix this. She doesn’t want to feel this way anymore. She misses him, and she barely knows him. 

This is exactly what she was hoping to avoid. 

.

Back inside the 5-4, Bellamy looks warily at Miller as he relays the news. “Repeat that one more time?”

“The kid’s mom has a warrant out for her arrest. Possession with intent to distribute. Look, I’m just saying maybe we should talk to child services before we get in touch with her.”

Bellamy shakes his head, “We can’t leave her out there wondering where her kid is. Whether she’s dealing or not, he’s still her kid!”

Miller sighs. “You’re going to find her no matter what I say, aren’t you?” 

Bellamy grins. “I’ll warm up the car.”

They drive Derek to his house, and Bellamy can hear shouting coming from inside the small brownstone as soon as he stops the car. He exchanges glances with Miller as they walk up the path, Derek’s hand firmly in Bellamy’s. 

“Derek, I want you to go back and wait in the car, okay?” Bellamy says, and Derek shakes his head.

“No! That’s my Mommy in there!” 

“I know, kid, but you need to go back to the car for a minute, okay?” Bellamy wants to tell him it’s going to be okay, but before he can get another word out, a woman comes out of the house quickly, her eyes red and her hair wild. 

“That’s my kid,” she says, and her tone and the shakiness of her voice confirms what Bellamy has been dreading - she’s not only dealing, but she’s using, too. 

“Ma’am, are you Mary Edgars?” 

“Who wants to know? Why do you have my kid?”

“You _left_ your kid at a coffee shop today. Do you remember doing that?” Bellamy asks, heatedly. 

“He ran away. He keeps doing that,” she says, reaching out her hands. “Derek, come to Mommy.”

Derek hesitates, and that’s enough for Bellamy. 

“Actually, I think we’re going to need the both of you to come back to the station with us.”

Something in Mary’s eyes changes, and she shakes her head vehemently. “No.”

“Ma’am, do you know you have a warrant out for your arrest right now?” 

The words seem to hit their mark, because suddenly she’s turning her back, and bolting into her house. 

“Get him in the car,” Bellamy says to Miller, and then he takes off after Mary, chasing her into the small house. “Mary!” He calls, drawing his gun. “I don’t want to do this the hard way, but if you make me, I’ll have no choice but to arrest you.” 

He spots her in the kitchen, and darts into the room, drawing his gun to eye level. “Mary… don’t do anything you’re going to regret,” he says when she comes into view and his stomach drops when he sees the gun in her hands, too.

“You’re going to give me my kid, and then you’re going to get out of here and pretend you never even saw me.”

“Mary, think about this. You don’t want to do this. Why go to all this trouble?”

“I can’t get arrested!” She says, her eyes wild. “I have to protect myself.”

“And what about Derek?”

“You’re going to take him from me anyway,” she chokes out, starting to cry. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just trying to provide for my family.”

“I understand, Mary, but you’re not going to get anywhere like this. You’re holding a gun on an NYPD officer. Do you know how long in jail you can get for that?”

“It doesn’t matter. You’re going to get out of here, and leave me alone.”

Bellamy can feel his adrenaline kicking in, and tries to tone it down. He can’t afford for this to get messy, and needs to concentrate. “I can’t do that, Mary.”

Mary sighs like she’s being inconvenienced. “And I can’t let you take my son.”

Her finger lands on the trigger, and Bellamy ducks before he hears the first shot fire off. He shouts for Miller and rolls on the floor out of the way of the second shot, which lands somewhere near his right leg. The kitchen is small, too small for the two of them to navigate it cleanly, and before he has time to think about what to do, he feels a searing pain in his abdomen. 

“Shit,” he mutters, and then Miller is there, knocking the gun out of Mary’s hand, pulling her arms behind her back forcefully.

“Blake! You okay?” Miller asks frantically. 

“Hit--” Bellamy manages, looking down to see a dark spot forming on his uniform. “God dammit, that hurts.”

Miller reaches for his radio. “Dispatch, I’ve got a 10-13 at my location, officer down. I repeat, 10-13, I need a bus to 1459 Elm Road, apartment 4.”

Bellamy’s mind starts to go hazy, and he tries to stay awake. The pain is starting to take over his entire body, and the last thing he can think of before it all goes black is the look on Clarke’s face from earlier in the day as she stood in the sun, her hair blowing around in the breeze. 

It’s a nice thought, if it’s going to be his last one.

.

.

Clarke is at lunch with Raven when she feels it. At first it feels like a cramp, but then the pain in her side gets stronger, almost stabbing. 

“Are you okay?” Raven asks, sounding alarmed. “You look really pale, Clarke.”

“I--” Clarke sucks in a breath, “My stomach just started to hurt really badly.” The pain continues, almost to the point where Clarke feels like she might faint, and a sinking feeling starts to accompany the sharp pains in her side. 

_Bellamy_. 

Her first thought is of him, because there’s no reason that she should be feeling this way. They haven’t eaten yet, and the pain isn’t nausea. It’s more sharp, more dire, and she almost feels like doubling over before the pain lessens. 

“ _Clarke_ ,” Raven interrupts, her tone urgent. “What’s happening? Do I need to take you to the emergency room?”

“No,” Clarke says, distracted, “No, I just--” she stops suddenly, a thought occurring to her. Quickly, she reaches for her sleeve and pulls it up, looking at the mark on her wrist. It’s not black anymore, it’s gray, and Clarke sucks in a breath.

“When did you get a tattoo and why didn’t you take me with you?” Raven tries to joke, but stops short at the look on Clarke’s face.

“It’s not a tattoo.” Clarke whispers, and Raven’s eyes widen. 

“It’s a--”

“Soulmark.” 

“When did this happen?” 

“A month or two ago. I’ve been-- I’ve sort of been in denial about it,” Clarke says. “But I can’t talk about it now. Look, it’s gray. It’s supposed to be black,” She says, embarrassed to realize that she’s about to cry. “Something’s happened.”

“Clarke,” Raven says slowly, “Do you know who your soulmate is?”

“Yes,” Clarke says quietly. “I know who he is.” 

“Then what are we doing sitting here?” 

.

.

When Clarke gets to Bellamy’s precinct, Raven hot on her heels, she practically collapses at the desk. 

“Officer Blake--” she says, gasping for breath, “Where is Officer Blake? It’s important.”

“Are you family?”

Clarke huffs, “No, no I’m not, I’m--”

“I can get another officer to help you if you’re in trouble, ma’am.”

“She’s his soulmate,” Raven hisses, her eyes hard. 

The woman’s eyes widen, and then soften in sympathy, and Clarke can feel her knees go weak. Something’s happened to him, she just knows it. 

“He’s at St. Joe’s,” the woman says quietly, and Clarke can barely hear her over the roar of her blood pounding in her ears. “There was an accident, and he got there an hour ago.”

“Thank you,” Clarke says, and then she and Raven are out the door again, running down the sidewalk towards the hospital where Clarke and Bellamy first met all those weeks ago. When they get inside, it’s much of the same. They won’t let Clarke see Bellamy, because she’s not family, and this time, Raven blurting out that Clarke is Bellamy’s soulmate doesn’t do anything to sway the woman at the reception desk. 

“I’m sorry, but I can’t let you back there.”

“I just want to know if he’s okay,” Clarke says, feeling her eyes fill with tears. 

“I’ll send the doctor out to talk to you, but that’s all I can do.”

Clarke nods, lifting her sleeve to look at her wrist again.

“Still gray,” Raven says. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“Right,” Clarke agrees, but she can’t help but remember being almost in this exact place with her mother. Things could go badly in a split second, and she can’t remember the last time she was this scared. 

“It’s Clarke, right?” A voice interrupts them, and Clarke looks up to see Nathan Miller, Bellamy’s partner, standing there.

He has blood on his uniform, and he looks exhausted, and it’s all Clarke can do to keep from pouncing on him, demanding answers. 

“Nathan, this is my friend Raven. Look, this is going to sound crazy, but… but-- is Bellamy here? Has he been admitted?”

Miller looks stricken. “Yeah. Yeah, he has. How did you know that?”

Heart pounding, Clarke lifts her sleeve. The mark is still visible, and Miller swallows heavily. “He’s my soulmate, Miller. I felt it when he got hurt.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Miller says quickly, and the relief that floods Clarke’s veins almost knocks her off her feet. “He was shot. We found a lost kid earlier today, and we were trying to return him to his Mom until we realized his Mom was… she was a drug dealer. Things got ugly.”

“Oh god,” Clarke says, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. She sits down quickly, Raven grasping her hand. 

“Look… I can go back there and see if you can get in to see him, if you want?” Miller asks. 

“Please. I-- I need to see that he’s okay with my own eyes.” 

Miller nods. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Raven is quiet for a few minutes before she turns to face Clarke. “This is why you’ve been in a funk for the last month, isn’t it?” 

Clarke doesn’t say anything, but her silence seems to answer Raven’s question. 

“Babe… I know how you feel about soulmates, and I know you’re scared. Don’t you think you should at least talk to the guy? I mean… look how upset you are right now.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Clarke admits. “I’m so glad he’s okay, and it’s stupid, because I barely know him! He’s a complete stranger. I shouldn’t feel like this.”

“But you _do_ , Clarke. He’s your match. Does he know?” 

Clarke shakes her head. “No.”

“Don’t you think the guy deserves to know? He’s just been shot, Clarke.”

“Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I haven’t felt guilty for _weeks_ knowing that he was right there, and that I just let him walk away? I did worse than that, Raven. I basically told him I didn’t want anything to do with him.”

Raven smiles sympathetically. “Clarke, babe, I know how hard this is for you, okay? I can only imagine what it must feel like to find out you have a match. But you can’t let this be another reason you refuse to let yourself be happy.”

Clarke doesn’t say anything, just frowns at her friend and tries to swallow past the sudden lump in her throat. She knows Raven is right. She _knows that_ , but it doesn’t keep her from being scared.

“Are you Clarke?” A new voice interrupts them, and Clarke looks up to see a brunette with a sharp jaw and tired brown eyes looking at her curiously. “I’m Octavia,” she says. “Bellamy’s sister. Miller told me you were here.”

“Octavia--” Clarke swallows hard. “I’m Clarke. This is my friend Raven.” She pushes her hair out of her face. “I’m Bellamy’s--”

“You’re his match, aren’t you?” She says, and she sounds so sure, Clarke can’t help but let a few tears leak out of her eyes. Octavia moves forward, grasping Clarke’s wrist. “I did Bell’s tattoo.” She explains. “His is darker than yours, but it’s the same.”

This confirmation of what Clarke already knows leaves her crying full on, and she’s powerless to stop it. It’s like all the emotions she’s kept pent up for weeks are coming out all at once. “Is he going to be okay?” She asks, feeling desperate. “My tattoo is still gray, and--”

“He’ll be okay. He just got out of surgery and he hasn’t regained consciousness yet. That’s probably why your color hasn’t changed back.” Octavia smiles at her reassuringly. “Do I have to give you the sister talk?”

Clarke raises an eyebrow at the brunette. 

“You know. Do I have to tell you that if you hurt I’m, I’ll punch you?”

Clarke sighs. “No. I… I have a lot I need to talk to him about, though.” 

Octavia’s eyes soften. “Do you want to come back and sit with him for a little while? I’d actually like to run home and get a change of clothes.” 

Clarke smiles at the excuse that Octavia is clearly using to get her and Bellamy alone, but she appreciates the effort all the same. “I’d like that.” 

She hugs Raven goodbye, and heads back to the recovery rooms with Octavia. She feels so, so nervous, and she hates it, but she knows she has to stop running, for both of their sakes. She knows what she has with Bellamy is real, even if they haven’t had a chance to explore it yet. He’s her match. She knows it. She also knows she’s his, and she wants to stop denying them both something that could make them happy.

.

.

The first thing Bellamy registers when he wakes up is a splitting pain in his side. He winces and shuts his eyes again to keep out the bright light of the recovery room. He doesn’t remember much about what happened, but he remembers the bullet. He thinks it will probably hard to forget.

The second thing he notices is Clarke, curled up in a chair next to his bed, her eyes shut as she snores lightly. He rubs his eyes, convinced he’s dreaming. There’s no reason why she would be here. She looks different when she’s asleep, he thinks absentmindedly. Not thinking, he tries to reach out to shake her awake, but the persistent pain in his side stops him, and he lets out a noise somewhere between a whimper and a groan.

He watches as Clarke wakes up, and when she realizes he’s awake, her eyes widen in alarm before she’s on her feet. 

“Bellamy,” she says, his name escaping her in a gasp. “Are you okay? Do you need a nurse? I can get someone--”

“ _Clarke_ \--” He says, and the tone of his voice must stop her, because she freezes, dropping her chin to her chest as she clearly struggles to regain control. “What are you doing here?”

She doesn’t seem capable of words, and he’s not sure if he’s just relieved to see her again or if the hope slowly blooming in his chest is about more than that. 

“Your sister let me in. She’ll be back, but she wanted to go home for a little while.” 

“Clarke--”

“I saw Miller too. He says he has to get back to work and do some paperwork, but he’ll be back to check on you--”

“ _Clarke._ ”

She meets his eyes, and the worry and concern he finds there floors him. She’s so upset, so worried about _him_. She straightens up, seemingly steeling herself for whatever she’s about to do, and he doesn’t know if he should be nervous or excited. “I felt it when you got hurt.”

His mind goes blank. “You-- what?”

Clarke takes a step closer to his bed and sits down on the edge, the smell of her floral perfume invading his senses. Slowly, she reaches for his wrist, pulling it up so it sits besides her right arm. Like it’s happening in slow motion, she reaches for her sleeve, pulling it up so he can see the mark that he’s only caught a glimpse of before. 

They match.

He looks at their wrists side by side, matching marks dark in the light of the hospital room, and he suddenly feels like he can’t breathe. He knew, he just _knew_ that there was more to what he felt for Clarke. He never expected this, though.

“I tried to tell you at the grocery store, but I couldn’t get the words out,” she says quietly. “My mark showed up 2 months ago.”

“That’s when I got my tattoo,” Bellamy croaks. He still can’t believe it, even though the evidence is right in front of his eyes. 

“A few hours ago, I was at lunch with my friend Raven. I felt a pain in my side, and then my mark turned color. It faded, Bellamy.” She tells him, her voice sounding thick with emotion. “I have never been so scared in my entire life.”

On a whim, Bellamy reaches for her hand, linking their fingers together. That same spark is still there, only stronger. He feels it throughout his entire body. A relieved noise escapes Clarke, and that’s the last straw for Bellamy. Without thinking, he pulls her closer, and seals his mouth over hers. 

His mind goes white. 

Clarke gasps into his mouth, and the pleasure he feels at finally, _finally_ doing this seems to increase tenfold when her free hand moves to his hair, tugging lightly at his curls. The kiss seems to go on forever, and he’s content to just sit there, Clarke practically in his lap, but the pain in his side won’t let him. He breaks away slowly, resting his forehead against hers. 

“I’m so sorry,” she says quickly before he can say anything. “I pushed you away because I saw your mark one day, and I was so freaked out, I--”

“I shouldn’t have pushed you. I didn’t see your whole mark, I just knew you had _someone_ and--”

“I never even stopped to think that maybe this could turn out to be good, like I told Charlotte. I’m such a hypocrite, I just--”

“I couldn’t get you out of my head and I knew there was something more there, but you looked so freaked out, I didn’t want to ruin anything--”

Clarke sighs, stopping both of them from tripping over their sentences even more. “I guess we’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

Bellamy grins. “I’ve been known to be an idiot from time to time.”

When he pulls Clarke back in for another kiss, he knows they have a lot of talking to do, but he can’t get enough of the feeling of her skin against his, her soft sighs against his lips, or the way her hands keep carding through his hair. 

When they break apart, Bellamy finds himself grinning. 

“What’s that smile for?” Clarke asks, smiling down at him. 

“Nothing. I just knew you were my soulmate from the very first time you told me to go fuck myself,” Bellamy says, clutching his heart dramatically.

Clarke lets out a surprised laugh, her eyes sparkling. “What can I say? I’m a romantic.”

.

.

_6 Months Later_

The blinds in Clarke’s bedroom are broken, so the light streaming into her room in the late morning hits her right in the face, causing her to groan unhappily. She rolls over, her hair spilling over her pillow, and feels Bellamy moving next to her.

He wakes up slowly, a scowl on his face as he tries to find his glasses on the nightstand, but the scowl disappears when he looks at her, a small smile appearing on his face. Like he always does, he reaches for her hand, bringing it up to his mouth so he can press a kiss to the mark on her wrist. Like always, she shivers. 

“Sleep well?” He asks, his voice gravelly. Another thing that makes her shiver.

“Mmm,” she hums a reply, reaching across his body to grab the water bottle on the nightstand. 

He grins happily at her, and she rolls her eyes. “What? I’m thirsty.”

“Oh, I bet you are.” 

“Shut _up_.” She says, but there’s no heat behind her words. “Shouldn’t you get dressed?” 

“We don’t have to leave for an hour.” His arm comes around her, tugging her closer to his side. “Let’s go back to sleep.” He murmurs, his breath tickling her ear. 

“I think we both know the last thing on your mind is _sleep_.”

“You wound me, Clarke,” he says, and she can _feel_ his smile against her temple. “Here I am just trying to make sure you’re well rested, and you can’t get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You know what? You’re the worst. I’m getting this thing removed first thing tomorrow.” She says, gesturing to her wrist. She pulls herself out of bed, reaching for one of Bellamy’s shirts on the floor, slipping it over her head. 

“Empty promises,” Bellamy says, getting up and stretching. 

Clarke takes a moment to admire the way his muscles shift in his back as he opens the closet and reaches for his dress uniform, one that has only recently made it’s home in Clarke’s apartment. 

Today Bellamy is being promoted to First Detective, a promotion that he’s staying humble about, but that Clarke knows he’s excited for. It comes not long after he finds a way to get Derek Edgars out of foster care and adopted, and receives a commendation for being injured on the job.

Clarke and Bellamy have been together ever since the day he was shot. They had a lot of long, much needed conversations about soulmates, and what it would mean for the two of them. Bellamy made it clear that while he knew Clarke was it for him, he didn’t want to make her feel like she _had_ to choose him. He did everything he could to still make it Clarke’s choice, and she loved him for it. 

And she did love him. It happened slower for her, but he was so patient with her. He never once pushed her or pressured her. Slowly, she realized she loved him too, and not just because he was her match. 

She loves the way he wears his glasses more often when he realizes she likes them. She loves the way that he brings her coffee when she has a long shift at her hospital residency. She loves that he drops by under the guise of being on patrol, when really he’s just checking on her. She loves the way he watches documentaries like other people binge watch Game Of Thrones, and she loves that he can’t stay awake past eleven on weeknights. 

She loves the way he loves his sister, and the way he looks at Clarke when he thinks she’s not paying attention. She loves the way he would do anything for his friends, and how he’s taken all of Clarke’s friends under his wing, too. 

She loves the way he loves _her_. He loves her with affectionate touches and forehead kisses. He loves her with words and whispered promises against her lips when they lay tangled together at night. He loves her with his entire heart, and she doesn’t need to see his soulmark to know it. He proves it to her every single day, and she can only hope that she makes him feel just as loved in return. 

“You okay?” He asks her quietly, peering at her over the rim of his glasses. 

“I’m great,” she says, smiling at him. “I’m really great.” 

Bellamy’s smile lights up the room. “Good.” 

Clarke crosses the room and tugs him to his feet, wrapping her arms around him in a tight embrace. Her lips find that spot on his shoulder that makes him sigh, and he buries his face in her neck, breathing her in. “I’m proud of you,” she whispers, and his arms tighten around her.

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says, kissing her temple. “I should shower. Do you want to get breakfast before we go?”

“Sure.”

Clarke watches him go, and then grabs her phone from the nightstand, dialing a familiar number. “Mom?” She asks, when the phone clicks on the other end.

“Hi, honey.”

“Are you going to be there today?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it,” her mother promises. “How is Bellamy holding up?”

“He’s excited, but he’s trying not to show it.” 

“He deserves it,” Abby says, causing Clarke to smile. 

Abby Griffin and Bellamy Blake met a month after he and Clarke got together, and Clarke thinks her finding her soulmate has played a huge role in reconciling the relationship with her mother. Abby seems to be able to relate to Clarke that she hasn’t been able to before, now that they both know what it feels like to have another person who fits with them so seamlessly. 

“I’ll see you there, Mom.” 

When she hangs up, she listens to the sounds of Bellamy humming in the shower and takes a minute to be grateful that her life is this good.

He comes out and gets dressed in his dress uniform, the dark blue and his badges shining in the soft light coming through the bedroom window. 

“I see you staring at me and I don’t appreciate being objectified,” he murmurs, not glancing up from fiddling with his tie in the mirror. 

“You appreciate it when it comes from me - your super hot, loving girlfriend.”

Bellamy laughs, a sound that fills her up. “Damn right.” He turns to face her, smiling at her when he notices she’s gotten dressed in a pale pink sundress that makes her skin glow and her blue eyes stand out. “You look gorgeous.”

Clarke kisses his cheek. “Almost ready to go? Let me fix up my hair and put some lipstick on.”

A half hour later, they’re on their way to get breakfast, hands entwined and swinging between the two of them as they walk. They meet up with Octavia and her newly discovered soulmate, Lincoln, and head inside. 

After they eat, they head to police headquarters. Bellamy goes to sit with Miller and two other cops that are being promoted, and they wait for the Commissioner to make an appearance.

After, they meet Raven and Clarke’s Mom at a restaurant near Clarke’s apartment and have a celebratory lunch. Clarke takes a minute to look around at all these people who are so important to her, and can’t help but squeeze Bellamy’s hand in gratitude when he sends a questioning look her way.

They’ve gotten better at reading each other’s emotions, but it’s not something they actively practice, and it’s still nice to leave something to the unknown. Either way, Clarke rubs her thumb over the mark on Bellamy’s wrist and feels him shiver, raising his eyebrow at her. 

“When we get home, I’m going to kiss you senseless.” He whispers in her ear, causing a flush to work its way up her neck and into her cheeks. 

“Promises, promises,” she says teasingly, echoing his words from the morning.

“I love you,” he tells her quietly, his eyes sparkling and his smile warm and gentle. They don’t say the words to each other often, but it never loses its potency. Clarke’s insides twist at the look on his face and she doesn’t know how she ever let herself get so scared of being matched with Bellamy Blake.

Marks aside, they’re perfect for each other, and she knows that they’re going to continue to work on their relationship and make it the best thing that’s ever happened to either one of them.

_And we'll build this love from the ground up_

_For worse or for better_

_And I will be all you need_

_Beside you I'll stand through the good and the bad_

_We'll give all that we have_

_And we'll build this love from the ground up_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Come cry with me @dreamingundone on Tumblr!


End file.
